


barycenter (yours and mine)

by norikae



Category: Monsta X (Band), 걸어 | All in - Monsta X (Music Video)
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Minor Character Death, Temporary Character Death, no suicide, rated for emotional and physical abuse (as in the mv), there's a happy ending i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 11:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norikae/pseuds/norikae
Summary: The streets pass by in a bleary haze, and his feet move of their own volition, carrying him past the marketplace and out of the town proper, down hills turned stony with dust until he comes to a stop near a river. He blinks out of his trance, then, and startles into consciousness, looking around at the debris in confusion.Why am I he -A flash of white catches his eye, and his heart seizes in his throat. They used to play under this bridge.Minhyuk wills his limbs to move, blinking rapidly against tears that don’t come.Please, he thinks,not you too.





	barycenter (yours and mine)

**Author's Note:**

> before you read this i would really like to stress that there IS death (temporary), and a strong element of abuse (as portrayed in the mv - not between the seven boys). this includes a moderately graphic strangulation scene. i erred on the side of caution with rating this one for that reason. hyungwon's mv-canonical death is still in, but no longer a suicide. please be careful when you read!
> 
> yes i know i am two years late to this au uh do me a favour and ignore that fact thank you

When the soldiers come, with their flames and their tanks and their guns, Minhyuk hides in his room, wedged in his closet, eyes shut tight and shirt jammed into his mouth to muffle the sound of his helpless sobbing. There had been a man in his room minutes, maybe hours ago, one who nearly opened the door before a shout from downstairs pulled him away, footsteps growing more distant until they were part of the dust and smoke outside.

He wonders if he would have preferred discovery.

Border tensions have long been high, the west side of their town long turned to rubble - but his mother had vowed against leaving the home they had built here, unwilling to be cowed by fear. Minhyuk squeezes his eyes shut, remembers her smile and hushed kiss, her last _I love you, darling, be safe_. Already it seems like years ago.

He listens intently, and finds nothing but the echo of an empty house. So he wills his numb legs to move, exiting his hiding place as quietly as he can. Into a well-worn bag he pulls his things, the odd change of clothes, a locket, a photo. Flowers in a bottle by the sill.

He does not want to see the home that no longer exists. Pushing open his window, Minhyuk hefts himself over the ledge, and slips away.

 

-

 

The streets are unrecognisable, blinding grey high in the sky blocking out the sun. Everywhere stone has crumbled to ruin. As he stumbles down the road, Minhyuk trips on something, and when he turns back to look, he sees an ankle and a foot poking out from under rubble. He averts his eyes, and tries not to heave.

The streets pass by in a bleary haze, and his feet move of their own volition, carrying him past the marketplace and out of the town proper, down hills turned stony with dust until he comes to a stop near a river. He blinks out of his trance, then, and startles into consciousness, looking around at the debris in confusion. _Why am I he -_

A flash of white catches his eye, and his heart seizes in his throat. They used to play under this bridge.

Minhyuk wills his limbs to move, blinking rapidly against tears that don’t come. _Please,_ he thinks, _not you too._

The earth tilts, and it hits him, then, how curious it is that loss looks so much like Hyungwon’s still, pale face. Disbelieving, Minhyuk reaches a shaking hand out, and nearly weeps when he finds the faintest hint of a breath.

Unbidden, a voice whispers at the back of his head. _They say it cures all ills_. Minhyuk freezes in a brief moment of confusion, and then he’s shrugging the backpack off his shoulder, trembling as he roots around for the blue bloom he remembers bathing in the light by his window. _The Foxflame_.

He doesn’t recall where he got it from. He doesn’t think it matters. Desperate, he pulls it out and holds it to nearly-grey lips, left hand cradling Hyungwon’s face. “Please,” he whispers, softly, nudging the sprig gently against that unmoving mouth. “Please.”

Impossibly slowly, Hyungwon’s lips fall open, and he feeds him the flower, inch by painstaking inch until it is gone. Then all there is to do is wait. Clasping a cold hand in his own, Minhyuk sits back on his haunches, and prays.

 

-

 

When they limp into a familiar forest clearing, Hyungwon held up clumsily between Minhyuk and Wonho, they find a fire already going, a few figures huddled beside it.

“Is it safe for that to be lit?” Wonho asks, gently helping Minhyuk manoeuvre Hyungwon into a sitting position with Minhyuk’s rucksack as a makeshift cushion. “The smoke might give us away.”

In the flicker of the flames, Changkyun’s distinctive profile is evident. He shakes his head. “Everything is ablaze, and the sky is smoke. It won’t stand out.” For a moment his gaze is far away, beyond the line of the trees, reflected fire dancing in dark lenses. Then he glances down suddenly, threading tender fingers through hair. “Anyway, I think they’re gone. There are other destinations along the border to pillage.”

Minhyuk wants to open his mouth to ask if that doesn’t mean it might be possible to return to their town - but the words fall away when he notices the form curled up restlessly, head in Changkyun’s lap. “Kihyun?” He asks tentatively, and his heart sinks when the low light only accentuates the shadow that comes over the younger’s face. “What… what happened?”

Wordlessly, Changkyun turns his head, and Minhyuk’s gaze follows. When it lands on Kihyun’s left calf, white bandage glowing eerily in the limited moonlight, he lets out a noiseless “Oh” in dismay, takes an aborted step towards them. “Oh my god,” he breathes.

Changkyun smiles grimly, mouth stretching awkwardly sideways like it hurts to do so. “The roof caved in,” he says simply. “Jooheon-hyung helped me get him out and bandage it, but…” His face crumples all of a sudden. “There was so much _blood_ , hyung.”

Involuntarily, Minhyuk’s hands curl into fists, mimicking the invisible grip caging his chest, drawing tighter every second. The movement doesn’t escape Changkyun, who looks across the fire to where Hyungwon is leaning against a boulder, face blank, slowly sipping water from a chipped cup while Wonho watches helplessly.

His gaze sweeps back to Minhyuk, who shrugs weakly, finally brave enough to close the distance and kneel to brush a comforting hand over Kihyun’s taut brow. “He nearly died,” Minhyuk says quietly, close enough that the crackling of firewood keeps their secret. “I don’t think he knows just how - just how close it was.” Then he coughs uncomfortably, trying to relieve some of the tension in his chest, and doesn’t realise he’s tearing up until Changkyun is gently wiping at his cheek and murmuring comfortingly, calloused hands coming away wet.

“Where are Jooheon and Hyunwoo-hyung?” Hyungwon’s voice is gravelly like something pulled out of long storage, yet to be dusted and aired. In an instant Minhyuk has darted over to his side, is touching his face, neck, hands, and tucking himself as tightly around him as possible. Hyungwon lets out a huff of almost-laughter, but reciprocates the hold, tucking his nose against Minhyuk’s white-blond head.

“Honey-hyung is gathering food and herbs,” Changkyun replies softly, again brushing Kihyun’s hair gently away from his forehead. “Hyunwoo-hyung hasn’t been in town for a few days.”

“Where will we go?” Wonho speaks hesitantly, sitting close on Hyungwon’s other side. “To Hyunwoo-hyung?”

Minhyuk nods. “He’s with his uncle, right? It’s the closest village from here. Along the border. We can go there - take turns carrying Kihyun if we have to.”

Changkyun smiles automatically at that. “He’d rather fly than let any of us carry him,” he quips, then suddenly grows grim. “But… won’t the soldiers be there, too?”

Minhyuk thinks about the men who stormed his home, crowing loudly as they rifled through their drawers, knocking on hollow floorboards and talking carelessly all the while. He bites his lip hard enough for it to bleed, until he stops seeing his mother’s face, then says, too-lightly, “It’s too small to be a major target, I think.”

Hyungwon _mms_ in agreement, linking their hands together like he knows. “We have to find hyung, either way. It’s all we have for now.”

There’s a familiar bird’s whistle, then the rustling of foliage somewhere behind Changkyun and Kihyun. They all turn to watch as Jooheon emerges, a sack over his shoulder, and he smiles lopsidedly, dimples denting his cheeks. It’s a comforting sight. “You’re all here,” he greets, then lumbers over to the fire and sets the sack down, sitting close to Changkyun and Kihyun. “I got dinner.”

Hyungwon lets out an exaggerated cry, rubbing his flat stomach. “I could certainly use some,” he says, tone loud with forced cheer. “Joohoney, you’re the best!”

“As always,” Jooheon parries effortlessly, locking knowing gazes with Minhyuk, who shakes his head imperceptibly. There will be time to tell him later.

He nods, then, and pulls out a pot, directing Wonho to fetch more water, entrusting Minhyuk with a knife and an assortment of vegetables. Hyungwon is designated sous chef, while Changkyun is to tend to Kihyun - as the makeshift campsite buzzes into activity, it is almost enough to dispel the uncertainty hanging over their heads, the weighty penumbra of tomorrow.

 

-

 

Their entry into the next village is easy enough. Nobody guards its entrance, and Jooheon - who has been before - leads the way to an abandoned hut near its eastern edge, a small but moderately well maintained structure with the barest of furnishings.

“I’ll go look for Hyunwoo-hyung,” Wonho volunteers, and is quickly off, wasting no time while the others settle Kihyun down. Jooheon also departs soon after with a vague wave and the excuse of _supplies_ , leaving the other four huddled together on a couch, suddenly solemn.

Changkyun is the first to break the silence. “How are you feeling?” he asks Kihyun. The reply is a halfhearted grin verging on self-deprecating that causes Changkyun to instinctively smooth a hand over his thigh, just above the knee.

“Like hell,” he says simply, but smiles anyway. It’s small, meant for an audience of one - feeling suddenly intrusive, Minhyuk tears his gaze away from the two of them, hand finding Hyungwon’s wrist as he stands up and tugs him out the back door.

“Did I die?” Hyungwon asks, abruptly, when they’re out of earshot. A bony hand comes up to feel at his own throat, the other twisting to link with Minhyuk’s. The back of the hut faces a dirty hill, barren soil from its base to the peak, topped by a dilapidated greenhouse. “I probably sound crazy, but… I feel like I did.”

Minhyuk doesn’t look at him when he responds, squeezing his hand gently as he looks out at so much grey. “Almost,” he murmurs. “You were so still - maybe you hit your head really hard or something - thrown by the bomb blast maybe - I don’t know, there were no major wounds I could see but - but you.” His grip tightens, and his panicked breathing slows. “You were barely breathing.”

The taller of the duo turns to look at him, doe eyes round with an unspoken question. Minhyuk takes a deep breath. “I took a risk,” he confesses. “I had to. But it worked, and you’re here now, so.” The sentence trails off, a plea not to ask further. He wraps both of his hands around Hyungwon’s, squeezes once, and keeps them both there. “They took my mother.”

 _I couldn’t lose you too_. Hyungwon steps closer, releasing their hands so he can envelop Minhyuk in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk curls into him, face-to-neck, hands finding their way to his back as he presses himself into the hold as tightly as he can. “We should’ve run when we had the chance,” he whispers, hoarsely, around the knot in his chest, the lump in his throat. “I miss her so much.”

Hyungwon strokes his head, hand running through soft hair in a comforting rhythm. “I know, love,” he mumbles, holding Minhyuk for as long as he will need to quiet. “I know.”

 

-

 

“So how did you do it?” Jooheon asks Minhyuk, later that evening, as he stirs a pot of stew. He ladles some of it into a bowl and slips it over for Minhyuk to taste.

It’s warm in his hands. Minhyuk takes a welcome sip, then fiddles with the bowl, fingers tensing into bird talons. He drinks it again, and nods his approval, before setting it down and speaking. “You’ve heard of the Foxflame.”

It isn’t a question. It gives Jooheon pause as he turns the fire down to a low simmer, turning to face Minhyuk contemplatively and leaning against the counter. “I have,” he hums, then his eyes widen. “Did you -”

Minhyuk tips his chin downwards imperceptibly. “I don’t remember who gave it to me,” he says, “And I didn’t know what it was until - until then. But,” and here his tone grows urgent, “But it _worked_ , Jooheon. One moment his heartbeat was so faint, and a few minutes later he was sitting up and laughing at me for crying. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it.”

The excitement is evident in Jooheon’s voice. “If we found just a stem,” he says, “We could cultivate it. We could push _back_ , hyung.”

His eagerness prompts an automatic smile, but Minhyuk hesitates in replying nonetheless. “We don’t know anything about it,” he says, “Not even where it’s from. And,” he adds, biting his lip, “We don’t know any more about its effects. It could’ve been a fluke, or a different plant altogether.”

Jooheon’s brows are knitting together in confusion, so he continues. “I only did it because I was desperate.”

Something of that desperation must leak through in his voice, because Jooheon’s expression instantly rearranges into one of understanding. But he is persistent. “If I can find it,” he says, “We could still try.”

Minhyuk breathes in deeply, thinks about the way he had felt seeing Hyungwon look so small and frail amongst rubble, skin grey with dust and draining life. Remembers how his frantic heart had settled with a jolt on seeing brown eyes flicker open, a hand reaching out for his. When he exhales Jooheon is watching him carefully, expression carefully neutral like he’s afraid to hope.

“It’s not like you actually need my permission,” Minhyuk says, because Jooheon is his own person, resourceful and clever. It would be difficult to stop him if he really had his mind set on something. “But you’re right. Okay.”

Jooheon cheers gratefully at this, scrambling around the table to crush him in a hug of gratitude as he whoops, and this, Minhyuk thinks, is how he will reevaluate the idea of home.

 

-

 

-

 

The soldiers are here, too, but there are fewer of them, ostensibly only present to maintain some kind of intimidating presence. Hyunwoo joins them two days after they first arrive, eyes dark and mouth drawn. Behind him, Wonho discreetly shakes his head in a caution not to ask.

Kihyun is still learning how to use the crutches Jooheon acquired for him, hobbling clumsily to and fro across their living room, and Minhyuk and Wonho cheer him on brightly as Changkyun follows his every move, ready to catch him if he falls.

“Shut the fuck up,” Kihyun laughs as Minhyuk starts with the third cheerleading routine in ten minutes, “I can’t concentrate with you screaming in my ear like that.”

“Yoo Kihyun _fighting!_ ” Minhyuk hollers in response, pulling Wonho’s hand up and forcibly waving it around. “We’re your biggest fans! We believe in you!” He nudges Wonho, who obligingly lets out a few hoots of agreement.

Hyungwon smiles at the sight, then turns back to Jooheon, who is telling him and Hyunwoo about his plans to obtain more food and supplies. “I know people in the town half a day’s walk away who’ll give us food in exchange for helping to transport goods between here and there,” he explains. “It’ll be fine if just the three of us go.”

Hyunwoo hums in agreement. “Wonho said he found a job at the pub, and it’s best for Kihyun to have company for now.” He glances over to where Minhyuk is attempting to wheedle Kihyun into a piggyback ride, co-opting Changkyun into helping him when Kihyun refuses.

Minhyuk whines and says something, yelling unintelligibly before he chokes on his words and starts coughing, hand clasped over his mouth as he bends over, the others watching in amusement. After a moment he straightens, hand slipping to his pocket, and grins cheesily before resuming his former pleas. Kihyun is smiling in a reflex response to Minhyuk’s antics, and it looks right on his face.

“Where will we sleep, though?” Hyungwon asks.

Jooheon unfolds a map and smooths it out, indicating their current location and their target. Tracing a finger along the imaginary line connecting the two destinations, he pauses at a point about two thirds of the way, tapping it. “There’s a forest here I wanna check out,” he tells them, “We can set up camp for the night there. There shouldn’t be any wild animals in the area, anyway.”

Hyungwon involuntarily lets out a squeak, and the other two turn to look at him, Hyunwoo cocking a brow in amusement. “Sleep out in the open?”

Jooheon grins at him. “We can afford inns when we have the money, hyung. But until we earn it the sky is our blanket.”

He groans in response, but stands up, knowing Jooheon is right. “We should get ready, then, shouldn’t we.”

The movement catches the attention of the other four, who look over curiously. “We’re heading out to get stuff. We’ll be back tomorrow night,” Hyunwoo offers.

Minhyuk scrambles to his feet from where he had been draped over Wonho, complaining about how mean Kihyun is to him. Childishly, he barrels towards Hyungwon, who instinctively opens his arms and catches him as he _thud_ s into his chest. He mumbles something, but it’s muffled in his shoulder, and Hyungwon laughs, squeezing him tightly before pulling them slightly apart.

“Don’t go,” Minhyuk repeats, sulky. “I can go instead.”

“Oi, what are _we_ , chopped liver?” Jooheon quips jokingly, but he may as well have not said anything for all the attention Minhyuk pays him, eyes glued to Hyungwon’s.

“It’ll be fine,” Hyungwon tells him, gentle. Then he lowers his voice, and adds, “You have to keep Kihyun’s spirits up. You know I can’t do that as well as you.”

Minhyuk’s pout grows more pronounced, but only because he knows Hyungwon is right. “...Okay,” he relents, casting a not at all surreptitious glance towards the others. “But… stay safe, okay?”

Hyunwoo and Jooheon have already left the room to start packing, so Hyungwon takes the sliver of time to brush a hand over Minhyuk’s cheek, touching their foreheads together briefly. “Okay.”

 

-

 

Their errand is for the most part uneventful. Nobody pays any heed to a few kids wandering the streets, and though Jooheon disappears off somewhere when they rest in the forest, neither of them asks him any questions when he comes back hours later, empty handed and contemplative.

They’ve re-entered the town the next day, exhaustion humming under their skin, when they come across a commotion in the street. It’s Jooheon who jogs forwards to check it out, then turns around and gestures the two of them over urgently, eyes bright with something akin to anger.

When Hyungwon nears, he sees a pair of elderly shopkeepers he faintly recognises as having smiled at him and Minhyuk on the few instances they’d passed by, even though it’s obvious they don’t belong here. But they’re far from smiling now, shrinking backwards with hands unsure whether to cover themselves or their wares. Three soldiers crowd them, rifles carelessly waving about, and he thinks he can hear one saying something about an item tax.

Hyunwoo moves first, putting his considerable size between the men and the soldiers. “Leave them alone,” he says calmly, voice stable as he peers downwards into a military issue visor. “You don’t have the authority to be engaging in this criminal intimidation.”

Jooheon has placed himself in front of the other shopkeeper, and shoves another of the identically garbed troops, baring his teeth in an uncharacteristic show of aggression. “Yeah, back off,” he coos, gaze hard. When he takes a step forward, the soldier trips back.

Hyungwon is terrified of guns, and the thought of violence, but he forces himself to move towards his friends anyway, hiding his trembling hands behind him. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he hopes his height will do the talking on his behalf, coming to stand between Hyunwoo and Jooheon. The air is so tense he has to remember to breathe - Hyunwoo takes another step forwards, and it’s a tipping point, enough to break the stalemate.

The soldier in front of him shrinks away, grabbing at his companions as he does. They whisper amongst each other, casting glances back towards Hyungwon. But they are retreating, and he forces himself to stand strong until they leave. The moment they’re out of view his knees buckle, Jooheon catching him before he hits the ground.

“They could’ve _killed_ us,” he mumbles, leaning entirely on Jooheon for the support. He’s dimly aware of Hyunwoo talking to the shopkeepers. “I’m glad we did it but _they could’ve killed us_ , Honey.”

Jooheon runs a soothing hand up and down his back. “The safety on all their guns was on, hyung. I don’t think they had the authority to start anything much. You saw how quickly they fled.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t noticed. Hyungwon huffs a shaky laugh from where he’s sunk to the ground, throwing a hand over his eyes. “I feel like an idiot now,” he remarks drily. Hyunwoo, done talking to the men, gestures towards them that they should go.

He takes the hand Jooheon holds out and allows himself to be pulled to his feet, legs still shaky. “Seemed like they were talking about you for some reason though.”

Exhaling, Hyungwon dusts himself off perfunctorily before picking up Jooheon’s rucksack and handing it back to him. “Eh, it’s probably nothing,” he shrugs, breaking out into a leisurely jog. “Race you back.”

 

-

 

Hyungwon laughs at something Minhyuk says, relishing the way his eyes curve into crescents in delight when he makes someone else smile. They’re seated under a bridge, a makeshift wares storage area the shopkeepers told them they could use in thanks for their help. Nearby Hyunwoo, Jooheon and Wonho are playing hopscotch, while Kihyun tries to teach Changkyun how to carve a piece of wood into a whistle.

“Look what we have here,” a voice calls, gravelly and mocking. Hyungwon freezes - he knows that voice. The others do as well. Instinctively, he pushes Minhyuk away, lowering his head to avoid eye contact as he tries to fold up behind the boxes stacked around him.

Into their tiny space has come a small squad of people, all garbed in the colour of the military. But they are no mere soldiers - crests on their pockets denote their status as being from central control, and the man at their head is somebody he knows well.

“You should’ve died when I left,” the man starts conversationally, coming to a stop in front of Hyungwon. “I would’ve taken you with me, but you were out again, doing god knows what. Always as you please.”

He pauses for effect, then snarls when no response is forthcoming. “Raise your head, boy. Look at me.” He spits at his feet. “Coward.”

Biting his lip, Hyungwon does. His father’s face, as always, is severe but dispassionate, belying the violence promised by his tone. He looks pleased when their eyes meet.

“Imagine my surprise when I hear that somebody fucking around with our soldiers looks _just_ like my son,” he says, “Not so dead after all, I see. And still a fucking disgrace.”

Hyungwon’s mind is a whirl of fear and anger, an ugly mix bubbling underneath his skin, hot and suddenly too tight. Then he thinks of Jooheon and Hyunwoo, and their courage, and scrambles to his feet, mouth working to retort.

“Disown me then,” he tries to say, but he’s barely gotten a syllable out before there’s a white-hot ringing in his ears, the world blurring into a loss of sound and the unpleasant taste of iron in his mouth. He reels, suddenly unable to think, dizzy vision narrowing in on a singular speck of dirt on the wall beside him.

“You’ll come with me,” his father says, and turns on his heel, expecting Hyungwon to follow like a trained dog.

For a moment, he entertains the notion of rebelling, of turning away from the spectre that has haunted him for so much of his life. It could be easy. He has Jooheon, Wonho, Changkyun, Kihyun, Hyunwoo. And Minhyuk. Dear, sweet Minhyuk.

But he is so tired, and fighting takes so very long. Head bowed, and careful not to look at anyone, Hyungwon submits, the way he always does.

 

-

 

“Hyungwon,” Minhyuk is saying, sitting with his knees tucked under his chin and trying to catch his gaze. He looks so young. “Hyungwonie, please. Look at me.”

They’re sitting on the floor of an empty room that is supposedly his now, bare of anything except a shelf and a thin sleeping pallet. His father has gone out to accompany the local patrols; Minhyuk had sat under his window and waited for hours, climbing in the moment he’d heard the front door click shut.

Out of the corner of his eye Hyungwon sees Minhyuk’s hand twitch, like he wants to reach for him, but thinks he ought to give him space. Instead, it comes up to rub at the base of his neck, and Minhyuk clears his throat a few times before he tries again. “Please?”

It might be the heartbreaking crack in his voice that makes Hyungwon relent. Reluctantly, he drags his line of sight upwards to meet Minhyuk’s gaze, and nearly huffs a laugh when Minhyuk’s eyes widen simply on seeing the extent of bruising around his eyes. “You don’t want to know,” he says thickly, lisping around a split lip.

But Minhyuk does, and already he’s reaching forward to tug at the edge of the ski mask. “He made you wear this so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge what he did, didn’t he.”

His voice is so, so cold, and it sends a chill racing up Hyungwon’s spine. It would be easier, he thinks, if Minhyuk raised his voice in anger - there is a blunt force to that which he is used to, and can deal with. Instead his loud bell-tones grow frighteningly quiet, like a storm lurking across the sea.

“Go home, Minhyuk,” he tries again, hand catching his wrist, rubbing soft circles into Minhyuk’s skin with his thumb. “Go home, and I’ll. See you tomorrow. I have to stay here.”

Stubbornly, Minhyuk gently tilts his chin upwards, searching his eyes with that familiar tenderness until he seems to find something that solidifies his resolve.

“No,” he says, quietly, and when Hyungwon closes his eyes in implicit permission, he gently tugs the mask off, casting it aside behind them.

And hisses sharply, a sibilant unhappiness.

“Hyungwon,” he chokes out, both hands cradling his face with an impossible lightness. “Wonie.” Minhyuk leans forward, slowly, so gently, and presses a kiss to Hyungwon’s forehead.

Then he pulls away, eyes newly alight with fury. “Wait for m -” he starts, gathering himself into a standing position, but the sentence chokes off sharply, abrupt. Urgently, Minhyuk claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wild and wide as he tries to stifle what sounds like a series of wet, heaving coughs.

“Minhyuk?” Worried, Hyungwon tries to get to his feet, but Minhyuk turns and dashes, and in a flash he’s gone, nothing but a swinging door in his wake.

 

-

 

-

His head is spinning. The world is too cold, too bright, blinding greys and blues and whites, and he thinks he might be sick, so he is, again, and again, throat tearing with how much he is coughing, petals and stems catching in his windpipe on their way out.

The torment is over soon enough. Minhyuk blinks away the tears that have beaded at his eyes, and smiles wryly, bending to gather the brilliant blue flowers into a bag. His first full branch - and finally something for Jooheon to cultivate.

At first it had just been a tickling in his chest, a tautness to rub away - then it had been one petal, and then five, and then handfuls with increasing frequency, until he was experiencing the attacks several times a day. This, of course, is the worst yet - when he wipes at his mouth, his sleeve comes away stained dark red.

He doesn’t know what this illness is. He doesn’t care to. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he goes to see Jooheon, a curious lightness in his step.

 

-

 

“Oh my god, hyung,” Jooheon is saying, taking the flower into his hands. “Oh my god. How did you - this could be everything. This could change everything.” He chatters non-stop when he’s excited. “Oh my _god_ , hyung, you’re incredible.” With shaky hands he gently sets the bloom into a tall glass tube and disappears into a backroom with it, where he will doubtless later be hunched over it for hours.

The greenhouse up on the hill has become something of a laboratory of his - though initially decrepit, Jooheon has resources, connections, and willpower. Already, the place has a clear semblance of organisation, the front area housing a variety of herbs Minhyuk doesn’t know the names of, rows of prepped pots extending from the door to the far wall.

Soon, he reemerges, but the excitability is temporarily gone, tucked under a blanket of discerning. “So,” Jooheon says, eyeing Minhyuk carefully. “Where did this come from?”

Minhyuk smiles brightly, arms tucked uncomfortably behind his back as he slowly takes one step backwards, then another. “It’s a secret, Honey, you know I can’t tell you that.”

But Jooheon always knows more than he lets on. Approaching quickly, he reaches for Minhyuk’s right arm, and tugs at it, revealing the rusty brown smear darkening the cuff. It clearly means something to him, judging by the way his expression changes - immediately, Jooheon drops Minhyuk’s arm, a brand of sorrow clear as day on his soft face.

“Minhyuk-hyung,” he says, solemn. “You have to tell them.”

Minhyuk frowns, and massages his throat. It’s tickling again. “Tell who what?”

Jooheon looks at him for a long, considering moment, like he’s trying to see through his bluff. Minhyuk meets his gaze head-on, confused but patient. It pays off; after a small eternity, Jooheon stands up and heads to a cabinet to rifle through it as he speaks.

“I’ve heard about this,” he says at length, “A disease where you cough up petals, then flowers, worse and worse until you suffocate or bleed out from the thorns ripping your throat apart.” He turns around and eyes Minhyuk briefly. “Guess you’re lucky. Your flower doesn’t have any of those, at least.”

Minhyuk purses his lips. “And? What did you mean by having to tell someone?”

Jooheon resumes his clinking, shuffling about as he starts to mix the contents of a few vials together. His unwillingness to speak is almost palpable. “Nobody’s sure for real,” he starts, slowly, aimlessly rearranging glass bottles on the tabletop, silence punctuated by the hollow scraping noises. “But it has to do with unrequited love, or something like.”

Then he’s picking up a receptacle and heading towards Minhyuk, forcibly cheerful all of a sudden. “Anyway, drink this - it’ll help slow the growth a little.” The beaker he shoves towards him is chipped and the liquid a strange purple, but Minhyuk shrugs and downs it anyway. It tastes….brown.

“I don’t have anything like that, though?” Minhyuk hums, stretching backwards leisurely like he hasn’t just been told he might be dying. He winks at Jooheon, miming shooting him with a finger gun, then blows away the imaginary smoke.

Jooheon picks up the glass wordlessly, one finger tapping against it in a fidget. “Yeah, well,” he says, “Do me a favour, hyung, and think about it anyway.”

 

-

 

He would, but there are more important things at hand. Minhyuk needs to make the man _hurt_ , had been intent on raising hell immediately when he’d been sidetracked.

But no matter. When he arrives back at their house Wonho is there alone, cooking some sort of noodle soup in a pot.

“Where’re the others?” Minhyuk calls out to him on his way to the room he shares with nobody now, the one with Hyungwon’s things still strewn all over the place. Minhyuk strips himself of the stained shirt and pulls another on instead, grabbing a pen and paper as he heads back out to the living area.

Wonho doesn’t look up from his task. “Hyunwoo-hyung went to visit his uncle again. Jooheon’s in his lab, and Changkyun and Kihyun went out for a walk. What’s up?”

“I need your help with something,” Minhyuk says, settling down at the table and beginning to jot something down.

It gets Wonho’s attention. He turns off the stove, transfers his noodles into a bowl, then joins Minhyuk, quiet as he contemplates the scribbles on the paper. “This is about Hyungwon, isn’t it?”

Minhyuk smiles, in response, but his eyes are hard. “You know me well.”

His friend nods slowly. “I do,” he says, quietly. “But do you think this is what he wants?”

Minhyuk’s head snaps up sharply at this, retort tumbling out of his mouth. “The man’s been terrorising him for _years_ , hyung, and I’ve seen all the scars that prove it. All I’d be doing is giving him a taste of his own medicine. What do you mean?”

For a while, the only sound is Wonho’s chewing, an awkward meter that fills up the silence in pieces. Finally, he sighs. “I’m willing to do it if you are, Minhyuk. But - and I think you know this - in something like this that involves him... it’s only right that he should know.”

 

-

 

The sky is bleeding out when Minhyuk leaves their house again, dying orange embers sinking slowly into a shade approaching indigo. The walk to Hyungwon’s father’s house is quickened by a jog, hood pulled over his shock of hair to avoid attention.

When he draws near, Minhyuk slows to a careful crawl, and he circles the structure, making his way to the back where he knows Hyungwon’s room is. He knocks tentatively on the window, a drumming sequence that has been theirs for years.

Almost instantly, the window slides open to reveal Hyungwon’s face, painted in a riot of bruises. Instinctively, Minhyuk reaches out to brush his hand over soft skin, willing the fresh rage rising in his chest to still. “Hey,” he says, like he hadn’t just run away a few hours ago doubled over with no explanation whatsoever, like this isn’t some clandestine meeting by moonlight. “Can I come in?”

Hyungwon makes an expression that might’ve been a frown if he had full facial mobility. “Minhyuk,” he starts, but the other is already climbing in, one leg over the other as he slides easily into the room.

“You haven’t tended to your face,” Minhyuk observes, already opening his bag and searching around for his medical supplies. “Sorry I ran off so suddenly just now, I just… had things to do.”

Hyungwon eyes him warily as Minhyuk begins to mix what looks like a poultice, pulling out gauze and tape. “My father will notice,” he says softly, and Minhyuk’s hands still in their movement. “It might be a better idea for me to just leave them as is.” Then he asks, mouth clumsy, “What did you do?”

Minhyuk shakes his head, grinning brightly, purposefully pulling out the smile Hyungwon has compared to the sun. “Nothing. Yet.” Then he reaches for Hyungwon, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he does, frowning in concentration. “If I just apply this he probably won’t see, and it’ll help with the pain and swelling.” Hands steady on Hyungwon’s arms, his usually vibrant tone drops to a low whisper. “Can I?”

Hyungwon smiles instinctively, cheeks plumping with the stretch of his lips. He looks like everything Minhyuk has ever loved. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Minhyuk mumbles quietly, but Hyungwon clearly hears him, the way he tangles a hand with Minhyuk’s free one, eyes closed and patient under his ministrations. There is silence as Minhyuk works for a few moments.

“I’m really sorry I left you like this earlier,” he apologises again, as he pulls away. “You can open your eyes now.”

Hyungwon does so with some difficulty, but when he sees Minhyuk he smiles again, leaning in for a brief kiss. “Thank you.”

Minhyuk grins into it, touching their foreheads together. “Anything for you,” he murmurs, helplessly smitten. Hyungwon giggles a little bit when he detaches himself, tapping him lightly on the nose.

“So why did you come?”

The question is sobering. “Stuff,” Minhyuk says, evasively, then sighs, immediately irritated by his own inability to be frank. “No - well. Two things. The first is - I guess I. I need your permission?”

Hyungwon cocks his head in confusion, hand playing with Minhyuk’s fingers. “Yeah? For what?”

Minhyuk looks away when he speaks, deliberately ambiguous. “I want to make him pay.”

The statement hangs in the air for a second or two, and then Hyungwon makes a noise under his breath. “You don’t need my permission for that. Just promise me you won’t get hurt.”

For a brief sliver of a moment, the raw hate in his voice is clear, and it almost frightens Minhyuk - that such a dark emotion could claw its way into the heart of the same boy who used to cry when he saw lone sparrows by the river. He links their hands again and tugs, so the other falls forward and onto him. “I promise,” he sing-songs, messing up Hyungwon’s hair with his other hand.

It has the desired effect. The Hyungwon he knows is back, face squished in consternation at having been manhandled into a strange position. “And?” he huffs, letting Minhyuk squeeze his sides.

He plays dumb. “And what?”

Hyungwon pushes Minhyuk in the forehead. “ _And_ , you said there were two things. What’s the other one? Hmmmm?”

“ _Aaand_ ,” Minhyuk hums, head swaying side to side, “And...I just missed you, that’s all.”

Hyungwon’s gaze, impossibly, softens further. “Minhyuk.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Like the first time he said it, Minhyuk’s heart hastens into a stutter and batters the walls of his chest, aching with longing. Whatever Jooheon heard about this illness can’t possibly be true - he knows this without a doubt. “I know,” he whispers, “I love you too.”

Hyungwon leans in again, kissing him once, twice, three times. His eyes, heavy-lidded, are slow to open after the fact. “You should go,” he says, plush lips curling into a secretive smile, perfect even in his agony.

Minhyuk makes to protest, but there is a tell-tale tickling at the base of his throat. He mock-pouts as he extricates himself, and has gotten one foot out of the window when he turns back suddenly. “Take care, okay? I’ll be back soon,” he promises.

Hyungwon looks at him like he is the dog star on a clear night. “I know.”

 

-

 

“I want in.”

Minhyuk pauses by the front door, having just shucked off his shoes. “What?”

If he’d looked up, he’d have seen Wonho’s guilty expression as the youngest of their group announced his intentions. “Your plan, hyung. I want in.”

It takes Minhyuk a while to process, head hazy with the aftermath of throwing up flowers and blood loss. “Huh?”

Changkyun exhales through his nose patiently, but repeats himself anyway. “Wonho-hyung told me what you two were gonna do. I said I want to join.”

It clicks. “ _Oh_. That.” Minhyuk misses the strange look Wonho throws him at this, distracted by the need to find Jooheon for more medicine and to give him the fresh blooms. “Sure. Come along. If you want. Hey, has either of you seen Joohoney?”

Changkyun is looking at him like a riddle he has the answer to but in a language he doesn’t speak. “He’s still up in the greenhouse, I think.”

Minhyuk is about to dart out the door again when Wonho cuts in. “He might not be in town at the moment, actually. He came back in a while after you left, saying he had to get stuff.”

Changkyun raises an eyebrow, clearly not having heard any of this. “Stuff?”

Wonho frowns, the pinched look foreign on his handsome, sweet features. He gestures the two of them closer before he speaks, voice dropped to a whisper. “Hyunwoo-hyung’s uncle isn’t doing too well.”

Minhyuk thinks of the Foxflame, with all its potential and mystery. Wonders if Jooheon has has considered using it to help the old man, if time allows. “What is he going to do?”

“Rob a shop, probably.” Changkyun’s eyes, so often only at half mast, are wide open now, guileless and frank. “Hyung told me there’s an operation that could help, but it’s incredibly expensive.”

Wonho blanches, and the genuine horror on his face is so pure that Minhyuk would laugh if he didn’t feel much the same way. “Those people need the money as much as we do,” he protests, looking lost and sad. “I - I don’t believe Hyunwoo-hyung would go for that. Nor Jooheon.”

Changkyun’s mouth extends horizontally in an approximation of a comforting smile, and a hand comes up to smooth over Wonho’s shoulder. “His uncle’s dying, hyung,” he says softly. “And anyway, not all the shops here are run by citizens.”

“Strike baaack,” Minhyuk joke-cheers, but his eyes are dark and considering. “Well. I think we can leave them to it. We have our own business to tend to, if you’re still in.”

Changkyun looks up at this, curiously listening. “He said yes, then,” Wonho states more than asks, leaning against the table, crossing muscled arms over his chest.

Minhyuk smiles at this, hand toying with the hem of his shirt. “Of course,” he replies. “He said, ‘be my guest’.”

 

-

 

-

He sees the smoke first, looking out of his window while playing cards alone in his room. In surprise, he scrambles to his feet and runs to the window, carelessly knocking the arrangement around in his haste. Out of his one good eye he can see the flames, and for a moment he is seized by abject fear - are the soldiers taking action again, is that the local school burning to ash, are those people he once knew, all turned to dust - then the location registers, and he forcibly breathes out, a slow, agonizing exhale to calm his nerves.

It’s the town hall that is burning. Nothing else.

 _Minhyuk._ He relaxes, but remains watching, entranced by the way flecks of fire fall from the sky, taking every current in a morbid waltz. They look like stars touching base to earth, Hyungwon thinks, and is momentarily tempted to reach out, to keep something beautiful for himself for once.

Minhyuk is a force of nature, has been ever since they met. In his mind he is always running, always with that impossible smile, always pulling Hyungwon along by the hand. They knelt by gutters snailspotting, chased each other through fields, clumsily taped gauze over scraped knees. Where there is Hyungwon, there has always been Minhyuk.

But some things aren’t yours to have.

He startles out of his firelit reverie at the sound of the front door rattling. There’s a crash as it slams open, and Hyungwon barely has the time to look up before a vice grip closes around his neck, hoisting him against the wall, so tight he can barely breathe.

He closes his eyes to concentrate on calming his frantic heart, willing his blood to slow, his hands to relax. A voice is loud in his ear. “ - those _friends_ of yours, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? Did you think you could get away with it? Did they?” A slap sounds against his cheek, and his head swings to the side. “ _Did they?_ ”

Hyungwon hisses against the darkening spots in his vision, tries to claw against the hand pressing against his windpipe. “Let -” he wheezes, tears beading at his eyes, his chest tightening and tightening until it feels too small for the space within. “Me -” It’s getting darker, and the sound of the sea is raging, an ugly crescendo crashing around his mind. He can only think the last word. _Go_.

Maybe sense has returned to the man - the pressure has finally eased, and instinctively he can feel his body taking wheezing, desperate gasps. But the sensation is a mile away, a movie flickering on a screen, and he is so, so exhausted. Pulled under the tide, Hyungwon succumbs to the quiet.

 

-

 

They take cover under the bridge, soot smeared on their sweat-damp skin, empty gasoline cans tossed by the roadside somewhere. Changkyun pants, hands braced on knees, doubled over from the exertion of running, and Wonho sinks against a wall, unable to stop the grin of exhilaration that lights on his face.

Minhyuk allows himself one small, grim smile.

“Did you see him,” Changkyun remarks, wiping his forehead, huffing between words. “Trying to get back into the building like someone he loved was still inside, when all there was was documents and furniture.”

Minhyuk’s smile grows sharper, stretching into something nearly sinister. “And yet he abandoned Hyungwon in our town when the time came to leave.”

The air thickens, suddenly heavy. Minhyuk’s voice is a scythe in the gloom as he continues. “We shouldn't have waited for him to exit the building.”

Wonho and Changkyun exchange nervous looks, and the older speaks after a pause. “Minhyuk - you don't mean that.”

The stillness settles further, creeping into the corners around them, a density forcing them apart. When he slowly raises his head, Minhyuk’s eyes are devoid of any light. “Don't I?”

Changkyun stands up and takes a step towards him, unsure. “Hyung, I don’t know if you’d .. if you’d like to be a m - somebody who killed someone. Even if you did it for someone you -”

He is cut off by Minhyuk suddenly doubling over, letting out a series of coughs that get louder and more wretched as they escalate. His shoulders jerk with every wave, and his breaths are laboured, sounding like they’re forced out around a sea in his lungs. “What’s happening - hyung, are you okay - _hyung?_ ”

His attempt to rush over is cut off by Minhyuk holding an arm to keep him away, even as he seals his other hand tightly around his mouth. The tremors tear through his skinny frame, then, and as they watch, what looks like a small, blue petal escapes his grasp, then another, until Minhyuk is on his knees in a pool of silken petals, the pristine colour of a clear dusk.

“What the fuck,” Wonho mumbles, frozen to the spot, but when the hacking stops and Minhyuk doesn’t move from a kneeling position, forehead touched to the ground, he rushes over in worry. “Minhyuk? Fuck - are you, are you okay?”

This close, he can see that Minhyuk’s shoulders are trembling, can hear his quiet, shaky exhales of breath. Gently, he lays a hand on his shoulder, and when he pulls, Minhyuk follows. “Minhyuk?” he tries again, smoothing a comforting hand up and down his back. “What’s going on?”

“Hyungwon,” Minhyuk whispers, hoarsely, raising his head and looking somewhere past Wonho. He scrambles to his feet wildly, then, overbalancing so Wonho has to catch him and right him as he gets up. “I have to go,” he says to the air, unseeing, as his feet start to move. “I have to go.”

Changkyun catches hold of him before he can race off. “Hyung, please, hold on,” he begs, “What was all of that about?”

Minhyuk fights briefly against his grip, then stills, and when he turns his head Changkyun almost reels from the unadulterated fear in his eyes. “I have to go,” he repeats again, and it comes out in a sob as he holds up his clenched fist. When he unfurls his fingers, nestled in his palm is a seed.

 

-

 

“Are you ready?” Jooheon asks, heart thrumming against his chest, heavy with the bulk of a rifle strap. Next to him, Hyunwoo hefts his up experimentally, cocking it a few times before putting it back down. He turns to face him honestly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to hurt someone,” he says, already guilty for everything he’s about to do. The weapon is a dead weight in his hand.

Jooheon nods in understanding. “We’re not actually gonna use them, hyung. We’re just… gonna scare people. Right?”

The conflict doesn’t leave Hyunwoo’s face. Frowning, he looks down at the gun again, then his gaze drops lower, to the ground. Jooheon shifts his weight to his other leg, and waits.

“For uncle,” Hyunwoo says very softly. Jooheon pretends not to hear. When his friend looks back up, his mouth is set into a thin line, and he jerks his head in a firm nod. “Let’s go, then.”

Jooheon smiles as cockily as he can, trying to channel enough bravery for the both of them. “Aye, captain,” he says. “Lead the way.”

 

-

 

-

 

They are five, and Minhyuk trips and falls flat onto his face in his haste to run to greet the boy sitting under his favourite tree. Behind him, his mother lets out a disapproving tut as she pulls a handkerchief out of her bag, but he springs back onto his feet, taking off again across the grass.

The child under the tree startles when he comes close, but Minhyuk grins, all gums and baby teeth, and bombards him with questions.

Under the earnest prodding, he slowly unfurls, a bud under the morning sun. When Minhyuk finally remembers to ask for his name, he is told that it is Hyungwon.

 

-

 

On Minhyuk’s 9th birthday, Hyungwon gifts him two notebooks. The first has his name painstakingly cut out of leaves glued onto the front, and its first few pages have been filled as an example. “The third willow from the nice rock,” Minhyuk reads, tracing the leaf with a stubby finger. He turns the page. “Daisy from Mrs Kim’s garden.”

“You missed the first page,” Hyungwon points out, hesitantly. Minhyuk doesn’t mention the bruise around his wrist, the marks on his jaw.

He follows Hyungwon’s instruction. “Our tree,” he reads out, carefully, and beams blindingly, squishing his friend in a hug until he’s swatted at and begged to let go.

The second notebook is simpler. On the first page is a letter, explaining what the book is for. “Sometimes I… I can’t come out to see you so often,” Hyungwon says, redundantly. “So I thought we could share this book, so even if I’m not with you a part of me is.”

“Or,” he adds, head ducked low, peeking surreptitiously out at Minhyuk from underneath his choppy bangs, afraid to reveal everything in his eyes. “The other way around.”

 

-

 

“I want to hold your hand.”

Hyungwon is sitting by the river, tossing the odd pebble in while Minhyuk wades, pants rolled up to just below the knee. His hair is sticking to his head at odd angles, t-shirt plastered to his back by sweat. When he looks up his wide, wide grin is sudden and disarming, cheekbones catching the last rays of sun. Hyungwon’s heart twists in his chest, and then his brain catches up with the rest of him. “I’m sorry, wait, what?”

Closer now, Minhyuk blinks owlishly at him, then pitches his head forwards, leaning into his space. “I wanna hold your hand,” he repeats, completely careless of the way his adolescent voice cracks on every other word.

“Oh,” Hyungwon says faintly, and looks down at Minhyuk’s proffered hand. It’s muddy, but fares mildly better than the other, which is clutching river reeds that Minhyuk wanted to add to his collection.

Minhyuk looks down, too, and notices the dirt. “Oh. Haha. I’ll just clean this o -”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Hyungwon says, too quickly, and seizes his hand in a grasp, heart too loud in his ears for him to mind the _squelch_. Jubilant, Minhyuk squeezes back.

Behind them, the sun sinks into the horizon, casting orange flame into ripples that dissipate, one by one, until around them there is only inky night.

 

-

 

“‘Wonie, why don’t you run away with me?”

A laugh. “Because we would be hungry and jobless and we would die, stupid.”

“But you could be free of him.” A pause. “We could.”

A sigh. “That _would_ be nice, huh.”

Silence, and then:

“So?”

“Hmm?”

“So what about it? We could go anywhere. I would go anywhere for you.”

“...So nothing, Minhyuk.”

“Hyungwon -”

“I said no. Come on, you big baby. Let’s get you home.”

 

-

 

-

 

 _Jooheon is wrong_ , Minhyuk thinks, because there can be no doubt about what they are. _So this is just mindless worry. I’m overreacting. There could be a thousand other reasons for what just happened._

But nothing can disrupt the pull of gravity that has settled in his stomach, the unshakeable feeling that half the sky has fallen away, taking the moon with it. He presses it down, desperately, and runs harder.

When he reaches the house Hyungwon’s window is open. Sparing only a moment for a flicker of worry about Hyungwon’s father, Minhyuk climbs in, then calls out tentatively, hoping that the prickles along his spine are nothing but winter creeping in.

Now the house seems so frighteningly large; at every corner it seems like Hyungwon might appear, jeering at him for being so scared. He clings on to that image like a lifeline, has nearly convinced himself of its truth when he catches sight of a backroom, painted a stark white by fluorescence, a prone silhouette discernible through a window.

His blood runs cold. Minhyuk bursts into the space, wilfully blind to what he already knows, wrought desolate by the order in which things fall apart.  

In life Hyungwon is beautiful, vivid despite his quiet. In death he is still eerily so. Minhyuk knows this, two times now.

“Wonie,” he says, like he might hear him, taking one wooden step towards the chipped porcelain tub, a curious resting place. “Hyungwon.” _Did I do this to you? Is this my fault?_

But his eyes stay closed, his limbs stiff and still. Minhyuk doesn’t need to look for a breath that he will not find. The hysteria is building in the back of his head, roots sprawling across his chest, one illness exchanged for the other as he struggles to remember again how to breathe.

The potion. He remembers, now, searching his pockets in a frenzy. With the first of his petals he had thought to try to make an extract, appropriating some of Jooheon’s equipment and hiding the setup in their backroom. As the illness grew he had added more petals to the mixture, hoping more potency was better than less. He’d brought it along today, just in case something went wrong on their mission.

Deliriously, he lets out a sobbing laugh. This certainly qualifies.

Hoping against all hope, Minhyuk empties the bottle into the still water, watching as the clear liquid pales an unnaturally vibrant blue. At a loss, then, he, too, climbs in, trying to still his shaking, the sobs threatening to escape.

In the first light he tucks his head into the familiar bend of Hyungwon’s neck, links their hands together, closes his eyes, and waits.

 

-

 

-

 

When he looks back, all he will remember is a sequence of snippets, divorced from reality.

“Son Hyunwoo-ssi, right?” The nurse is saying, face blank, “I’m… I’m afraid the patient passed away yesterday evening.”

The world grinds to a halt. He is on a precipice, looking over, and as he tips forward it feels like the earth must too.

“Sir?” Her voice is so far away. “Sir, would you like to collect his personal effects?”

He must nod. Out of the catalogue of reactions he is convinced that that is the one he manages to pull out. He wants to ask about the body, the final resting place, but his jaw is leaden, and all he can do is nod, again, mechanical. Rock crumbles, and his weight slides forwards.

“Come this way, please,” she says, and he follows down corridors that are familiar - that will not need to be anymore. At the end of a short walk she indicates the door, and bows low, quickly, before leaving.

It is automatic to twist the knob, to let himself in, to gaze at an empty bed, clothes folded neatly in a stack. Otherwise the room is empty, unbearably small, and he is inconsolable.

 _You might need this_ , Jooheon had said, passing him a sprig of flowers the colour of a summer’s day. _You’ll know if you do_. They are small, innocuous in his grip, and mean nothing to him. Hyunwoo lays them on the pile, almost reverently.

The strap of his duffel digs into his shoulder, heavy with ill-gotten gain. He unzips it, upends the bag, and watches the notes flutter, like dust settling in a sky.

There is nothing left for him to do. As if in a trance, he reaches into his pocket, lights a match, and sets the world ablaze.

 

-

 

“You’re crying on me again.”

At the sound of his voice, Minhyuk cries harder, ugly sobs that wrack his entire frame as he pushes up from where they had been collapsed together, angrily glaring Hyungwon in the eye. “Once was enough,” he manages, “ _Once_ , Hyungwon, how could you leave me aga -”

Hyungwon shushes him gently, one bony hand coming up to cradle his face, thumbing away the tears. Helpless, Minhyuk leans into the touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I promise this time wasn’t my fault.” He lets out a dry laugh at that, a mix of a cough and a vocalisation.

Eyes still wet, Minhyuk steadies his hands on his shoulders, kneeling against him in the tub. “So I was right. This is because of me,” he breathes, “You suffered because of what I did.”

Hyungwon makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. “You’ve saved me twice now.” Apropos of nothing, he adds, “Weren’t you in pain, too?”

Minhyuk purses his lips, unwilling to reply. Hyungwon persists. “When were you going to tell me?”

He opens his mouth, and suddenly feels incredibly tired. Minhyuk has to fight off an inexplicable exhaustion to answer, truthfully, “Hopefully never.”

They’re soaking wet. Hyungwon shoves at him lightly to get him out of the way, then makes to get out of the tub, limbs slow with reversing decay and the added weight of water. “And why not?”

Minhyuk’s hair is blinding in the white light. “I didn’t believe it,” he says, omitting the _want to_ , smiling that toothy smile of his as he also pulls himself out.

“Minhyuk.”

The warning in his tone chips at the grin. Minhyuk licks his lips nervously, then: “I didn’t want to think you didn’t love me back.”

Hyungwon swings around quickly, eyes alight with something wild. “I do.” Minhyuk lets himself be pulled close, folded into an embrace, because he knows.

He is quiet for a while, rotating the possibilities in his head. “The other possibility,” Minhyuk says slowly, mouth against Hyungwon’s heart, “is that I don’t, but I can tell you without a doubt that isn’t true.”

It’s Hyungwon’s turn to fall silent, one hand stroking Minhyuk’s hair comfortingly. Then he speaks, oddly bitter, the grimace clear in his voice. “Maybe,” he starts, and then trails off. And starts again. “All these years, and I think… I think I couldn’t believe you.”

“It just seemed impossible that you would.”

Minhyuk makes to pull away, swallowing around the hole that has torn itself open between his lungs, but Hyungwon holds him close, grip tight and desperate. “I’m sorry.”

He breathes in, and then back out. “But I do now. I promise.”

Minhyuk squirms in his grip once, twice, then sags against him in defeat. “You’re a real dick, Chae Hyungwon.”

A small, hesitant smile. “But you love me anyway.”

“I do.”

“...I know,” Hyungwon says, and this time, it has to be enough.

 

-

 

They sit by the fireplace, all seven of them, just waiting. Warmed by firelight, the future a field of questions before them, something feels like deja vu.

“We’re leaving again, aren’t we?” Changkyun asks, almost childlike, arms wrapped around his knees, a finger picking at his jeans as he speaks. His eyes are wide but calm as he leans into Kihyun’s side, instinctively seeking out warmth.

Wonho nods. “There’s nothing left for us here.” The unspoken _again_ rings hollow between them.

“On that topic, before we go,” Jooheon says, clearing his throat, “I, um. I think we can cure Kihyun’s leg.” His tone is measured, despite what should be great news. The others watch him cautiously.

“I looked into it. Well. What I mean is, uh.” He is very carefully not looking at Minhyuk as he speaks. “You might have heard of the Foxflame.”

A murmur amongst the few of them. Hyunwoo looks away. Jooheon is visibly uncomfortable, but continues. “It seems it's… true that it can cure basically everything.”

“But?” It's Kihyun who speaks now, not unkind, but clearly frustrated with waiting. “What's the catch?”

“Hyung,” Changkyun mumbles next to him, and takes his hand, squeezing it gently.

Jooheon nods tightly. “It does so - well - it’s basically a way of living on someone else’s time,” he says, and feigns ignorance of the way Hyungwon’s eyes grow round, how Minhyuk’s fall wretchedly shut. “So -”

Changkyun’s low voice rings out confidently. “I’ll do it.”

Across the circle Wonho leans forward, eyes suspiciously wet. Kihyun’s lips pull taut under his elegant, sloping cheeks, and his sharp gaze is intent when he asks, evenly, “Are you sure?”

Changkyun glances at Minhyuk, at Hyungwon, then down at their intertwined hands. His eyes dart back to Kihyun, and all at once, something about him seems to settle. He does not look away for even a moment when he says, “Absolutely.”

The entire room is lopsided with the weight of the conversation. Jooheon clears his throat uncertainly, but it’s Hyunwoo who speaks. “Alright, then. We’re short on time. Kihyun, Changkyun, go with Jooheon.”

“The rest of you…” He fixes his gaze on a spot on the wall, and does not think of an unmarked grave. “Do whatever you have to.” They don’t need to be told twice.

 

-

 

-

 

_In a forest the great trunks extend high, magnificent canopies blocking out the sky. Hyungwon has never been this far into the ether, where the leaves grow richly green, and the air is thick and moist with life. A single variety of flower seems to bloom here, petals an eerie pale blue that seems to glow in the dark._

_He treads gently, feet never quite meeting the floor, humming comfortingly at the bird that lights upon him to curl its beak against his ear. As he walks he passes by figures perched on top of thin, tall poles, some meters above the ground. He can feel their gazes upon him, curious, suspicious, wanting._

_He comes upon a gate, and looks pleadingly upon it. Though a construction of cast iron it seems to belong amongst the grass, overrun as it is with flora, twisting with vines. He cannot tell where life ends and metal begins, the way elegant, looping whorls envelop nature’s small hands, and when he places a careful hand to the door it begins to hum, a tune, perhaps a lullaby._

_He shifts his hand until it seems to rest in its place. Then he presses, and the gate clicks open._

_When he steps through the place seems exactly as before, but when he whirls around the gate is gone. Hesitantly Hyungwon takes one step forward, then another, and is about to take a third when suddenly he hears a voice. “Hello,” it says, pleasantly._

_He looks up, and there’s a figure there, glowing despite the limited sunlight, hair a brilliant agate. Like the others before, he is perched on a pole, only his is nowhere near as tall, and he sits instead of standing, peering down in interest, slender legs hooked at the ankle. “Do you want to sit with me?”_

_Hyungwon stares in silence. It_ is _tiring, never touching the ground. He looks at the boy, with his warm, inviting smile, and feels a rush of yearning._

_“I can’t come down,” he explains, “But you could come up here.” He holds an arm out, expectantly, leaning over, palm to the sky. “I could halve my space, for you. Another sphere awaits.” He cocks his head. “Won’t you join me?”_

_A mundane, same world is behind him, and before him, open sky. Hyungwon takes the hand that is offered, holds tight, and falls upwards._

 

-

 

-

 

“Kihyun-hyung, wait up,” Changkyun huffs, rearranging the load in his arms. “I don’t want to trip and fall and _die_ just because you’re an asshole.” It’s difficult to hear him, hidden as he is behind a huge stack of firewood, clumsily tripping along a dirt road winding up a hill.

“If you died that would be your fault, not mine,” Kihyun retorts, swinging his herb-filled basket idly as he strolls. “If we’re not back before morning Jooheon’s gonna send out a search party, you know that.”

“You mean Wonho- and Hyunwoo-hyungs,” Changkyun laughs. Ahead of them the road curves deeply, and at the end there is a cottage, cast in steep moonlight. Kihyun laughs with him, a carefree sound.

“Oh, hey -” Kihyun looks up, then, and smiles serenely, waving towards a figure in the distance. “Hyungwon and Minhyuk waited up for us.”

Changkyun peeks around his burden, squinting through his fringe in thought. “They did,” he confirms. His chest is warm.

Soon they are close enough to see as Hyungwon pushes Minhyuk in the head in mock annoyance, grin breaking across his face when the other’s back is turned to him. It grows wider, transparently fond as he watches him trip towards them.

Minhyuk’s hair is whiter than it ever was, skin glowing nearly silver as he tries to get them to let him help. Changkyun refuses to let him, so he settles for chattering away about this and that, gesticulating wildly all the while, swinging his and Kihyun’s linked hands as he does.

With one last amused glance, Hyungwon heads in to rouse the others and set the day into motion, leaving the door open behind him. In the west, the sun rises.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this... please let me know if you did T__T i can be found on twitter [ here](http://twitter.com/frogbabey) \- it's mostly seventeen, but i'm always ready to talk about monsta x with anyone (just @ me and let me know you came from ao3)!!! i also have an mx handle saved but haven't started using it yet... will probably tweet about it when i do.
> 
> thank you for your time (:


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